


Beginning

by peripety



Category: Kings
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:18:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peripety/pseuds/peripety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Jack and Joseph might have met</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning

The collar around his neck might be an invisible one, but of late Jack felt the tug of the leash attached to it all too often. Family obligation. Royal obligation. Military obligation. Every day contained dozens of duties for Jack to attend to. And, when he finally thought he’d won free for an evening he could call his own, another card arrived. _His Majesty, Silas King, requests the presence of Jonathan, Major Benjamin, Prince of Shiloh...”_ and the collar tightened once again, inescapable as a noose.

The way the heavy cream invitation Jack currently held in his hand crumpled, his fingers curling around it, attested to his thoughts on this latest summoning.

 _For Jehovah’s sake, how could there possibly be another state dinner to attend?_ he thought, striding down the wide stone corridors of the Hall of Unity. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his mouth drawn into a tight, impatient line as he passed sentries and secretaries, oblivious to their presence once he’d learned he had his mother to thank for spoiling his plans. As he neared the “small” dining room as his mother liked to call it, an intimate room seating a mere fifty or so, Michelle intercepted him, smiling shyly but with genuine warmth at her elder brother, if elder he was only by minutes.

“Jack. Are you coming tonight?” she asked.

“Not if I can help it,” he muttered, more to himself than to his sister. “Is mother...?”

“She’s just finishing up her luncheon with the winners of the Playwright's Prize,” Michelle nodded. “Jack, I thought we could --” But her brother was ignoring her, on the move again, his long, nearly skinny legs eating up the distance towards the formal dining hall.

Once inside his gaze swung about the room. The remnants of the meal were being attended to by the uniformed staff, but some of the attendees still stood and chatted in small groups. Spotting a regal blond head, Jack moved purposefully forward, an imposing figure in the full dress uniform he wore so that anyone in his path naturally scattered.

The queen looked up, smiling when she caught sight of her favorite child, her crowning achievement. Silas might have this tower of glass and steel but she had this strong young man to claim for her own. “Jack, darling, how handsome you look,” she greeted after turning slightly away from the group she stood with. Her slim elegant hand reached out as if to straighten his already immaculate collar.

Jack wasn’t put off by the show of affection the queen thought appropriate for this semi-public setting. His voice was low and intense. “Mother, I told you, tonight I have plans of my own--”

“Now, darling, don’t be difficult. I’m sure you can accommodate your father and I for an hour or two this evening,” Queen Rose, said, her frostily indulgent demeanor expecting no disagreement. She was queen, after all, even of her beloved son. Still, she wanted to head off Jack’s persistence in case he was prepared to be recalcitrant. “My dear, meet some of the winners of our first Playwright's Prize,” she said, slipping her arm through Jack’s and turning towards the group of four young writers she’d been chatting with. She made quick introductions of the two men and two women. Stifling impatience, Jack suffered through the greetings, a pretty fluttery girl and a serious one; a portly young man and another more slender whose boyish handsomeness registered on Jack even though his mind still seethed with irritation. “And this is Joseph Lasile,” the queen was finishing introductions of the group to Jack, each name discreetly supplied to Queen Rose by a secretary who was paid to remember such things for Her Majesty.

Joseph acknowledged the curtsies with a stern nod, shook the hands extended, his grip turning challengingly firm when taking the hand of the man called Joseph Lasile. The writer met Jack’s gaze with an open calmness even as his fingers were nearly crushed in Jack’s grip, blue eyes widening slightly at the pressure the prince apparently felt necessary to use. But otherwise he didn’t wilt or look away from the imposing figure Jack could present when he decided to be a royal threat.

But the reason why Jack felt the sudden need to challenge and intimidate this particular man was pushed out of this thoughts quickly, so as to deal with the problem of his mother. “I’m sure you will excuse us for a moment,” Jack addressed the group, his arm on his mother’s firmly separating them a dozen or so steps away. “Mother, I have plans for tonight.” Plans that included blissful forgetfulness of duty and obligation. He intended to indulge himself with whatever wickedness was on offer, from drink to sex. The flick of his eyes back towards the man named Joseph Lasile was quick and unconsciously done.

“Plans must change, Jack,” Rose said, patting her son’s arm, sweetly implacable as ever. “The ambassador from Selah province and his daughter will be attending and I need you as her escort. Your valet is already pressing your tuxedo,” she said, her gaze going over her tall, handsome son. “Though you do look so very handsome in uniform,” she sighed, a hint of girlish appreciation in her softened, not quite motherly, voice.

“One of the ministers can escort the girl,” Jack insisted, even as he was realizing this was a losing cause. He assumed by “daughter” his mother meant “young and highly marriageable” which in turn meant Queen Rose wouldn’t easily let her son slip away from his duties to pursue a night of drunken debauchery.

“It must be you, Jack. Don’t be difficult, darling. Once your leave is over you will be gone again and I want you here. As much as you can be,” the queen suggested, the tone she used not much different from the one she’d used when Jack was a stubborn eight-year-old.

“Who are these people? Joseph Lasile? And the others?” Jack found himself asking, acceding his lost cause with the change of subject, his gaze once again on the slender figure who was turned to the side to listen attentively to what someone else in the group was saying.

“Who?” The queen had already forgotten the name that lingered in Jack’s memory but, following his gaze, realized whom he meant. “Oh, no one at all of consequence,” Queen Rose assured her son, dismissing the presence of Joseph and the young writers. “He is the son of some provincial governor, I believe. He is praised for his writing but if I’d known he was one of those who openly flout God’s law he wouldn’t have been invited to luncheon. Shameless.” The Queen’s eyes flashed at her secretary, portioning blame for that error in judgment in such a way as the young woman instantly flushed and looked guiltily away.

As if somehow knowing he was being discussed, Joseph’s eyes suddenly turned towards Jack and Rose, unexpectedly catching on Jack’s intense gaze. For his part, Joseph looked like shame did not exist in his undoubtedly thorough vocabulary, or so it seemed to Jack. Blue eyes met blue, though the color of Jack’s eyes was more chameleon than most. In this light and in his uniform they turned smoky gray and hard to hold.

“Debauched,” agreed Jack with his mother, unknowingly making the word sound desirable instead of tainted, but he didn’t linger his gaze, a deliberate point to be made to both the man Joseph Lasile for daring to be hot, and to the queen for daring to control Jack. “I’ll escort the girl,” he conceded to the queen’s request, earning a pleased smile that would turn to a frown when, later that night, Jack slipped his leash like a wily puppy as soon as his mother queen’s back was turned.

~*~*~*~

“Darling, how naughty of you to be so late to my party,” the young actress purred. She held a joint to Jack’s lips for his indulgence though as thick as the air was he hardly needed a direct hit. He obliged the offer all the same, holding the acrid lungful in for a heady moment, using it to wash away the memory of the ambassador’s daughter and reluctant familial duty.

“What did I miss, then, Alexa love?” he asked with a grin. A prince did not apologize, ever. And late or not, his arrival re-energized the party and made it a success. Alexa was moneyed, talented, and beautiful, all prerequisites to joining the party prince’s inner circle. Her mouth was also undoubtedly talented at more than just speaking her lines on stage, a talent Jack had indulged in often enough, if not of late. A willing fall-back to be used if nothing better offered itself by the time Jack was ready to end an evening.

“Nancy and Peter had a fabulous row with thrown drinks and crying and storming about,” she laughed. “And Layla let some boy toy sip champagne off her breasts. Just the usual.”

“And here I was hoping for something new,” Jack grinned back at the description of the party thus far.

“There is something new. Or at least _someones_ new,” Alexa said, unwinding herself from her snuggle against Jack’s side. Standing, she held out her hand. “My theater crowd is here tonight. Come and meet them, my darling Jack. Fresh blood for you and all that.”

“You make me sound like a vampire,” Jack observed, amused, but he took the hand offered and let himself be led out onto the rooftop patio. Here the music was softer, but the drink flowed just as freely, as did the sounds of laughter and bright flirting chatter.

“How absurd,” Alexa flashed another sultry smile, squeezing Jack’s hand. “Come and meet Joseph who writes the divine words that have made me a star this season.”

“Joseph?” Immediately the name conjured up a vivid image in Jack’s mind. Boyish good looks, intelligent eyes, a slim, strong shape. Surely it would be stretching coincidence to encounter two Josephs in one day.

And so it turned out. As Alexa brought him to the group immediately Jack’s eyes were drawn to the same man he’d met earlier. Joseph Lasile was laughing, his head back and his mouth wide and relaxed, not noticing their approach until Alexa spoke his name. He turned, laughter stilling if not his smile, though he lost it somewhat to a look of more intensity when his gaze went to Jack.

“We met earlier today,” Joseph said to Alexa after she performed a far more casual introduction than the Queen had done earlier that day. “At the Queen’s luncheon.”

Alexa’s eyes rounded as she stared at Joseph. “You were at the Queen’s luncheon?” she gasped. “That must have been--”

“Awkward. Yes, it was, once she realized whom she’d invited to sit at table with her,” Joseph supplied dryly when the actress seemed at a loss for words.

The understatement sent her into a giggle. “Since when d’you attend your mama’s fetes?” she asked of Jack, her laughing eyes turning to the tall man at his side.

“I don’t,” Jack supplied shortly, a little put out at being virtually ignored during the exchange between playwright and actress, not what he was accustomed to - or prepared to - allow. “I only met _Joseph_ in passing, after the lunch,” he added. His eyes were on the man, taking him in. Joseph was in slightly more casual clothes from the formal suit of earlier, if still dressed in a manner that was as upscale and expensive as Alexa would demand of her guests. After first glance, Joseph looked older, or perhaps it was wiser, to Jack’s eyes; although, no doubt, Joseph’s was a face which would carry a hint of boyishness even when he was forty, some trick of genetics adding a veneer of youth and energy. Perhaps they were nearly the same age but Jack felt older if not wiser. He felt other things, too, but not ones he was prepared to readily acknowledge.

“Joseph likes boys,” Alexa whispered in a loud stage whisper, her lushly painted mouth near to Jack’s ear in dramatic fashion. Her glance went flirtily to Joseph before adding. “Pity.”

“Not for me,” Joseph grinned, unabashed - or rather completely comfortable - at the outing of his sexual preference. He had never hidden his nature and wasn’t about to start, even though he’d wisely been a trifle more circumspect about it around the rigidly proper Queen Rose. Around her son, Joseph wasn’t making the same concessions.

“So you wrote Alexa’s play?” Jack said, curious in spite of himself. It was a brave man who didn’t care the world knew he stood in contradiction of the word of the King’s God.

“You mean _my_ play Alexa stars in?” Joseph corrected with an amused amount of possession as he looked directly into the Prince’s eyes. _Here was one who hadn’t learned the art - or was it the necessity - of deference,_ Jack thought. “Yes. Have you seen it?”

“No, I haven’t had the chance,” Jack said. “I’ve been assigned to the base at Port Prosperity for the past few months,” he said by way of explanation.

“Which is no excuse,” Alexa pouted, keeping her hand possessive on Jack’s arm. “You must come, musn’t he, Joseph?”

“It would be our honor to have you attend, sir,” Joseph said, making a slight bow. It was both a very formal and correct answer and gesture and Jack found himself irritated by it.

“It’s Jack when I’m at a party,” Jack said, a quick flash in his eyes transmitting his feelings about Joseph’s mode of address. “Go away, Alexa,” he said with rudeness so familiar the actress was unoffended by it. With a wave of her hand she wandered off to attend to her other guests, Jack was unaware of how her gaze lingered, his own was centered on the man in front of him.

“I haven’t seen you before at one of Alexa’s parties. How long have you lived in Shiloh?” Jack asked once he was one-on-one with the playwright. He’d learned the art of drilling a cadet early on in his career and was unconsciously using the technique now. Although, truth be told, he’d never been prone to social niceties. It was in his nature to be direct, to obtain what he wanted via the shortest possible route.

Joseph’s half-smile was slightly bemused at the tone the prince used but he answered readily enough. “I’ve lived in Shiloh for about three years now. But I was never successful enough to earn an invitation to Alexa’s parties,” he said, sounding more amused than offended by his prior exclusion from the world of the entitled. For Jack, a mostly unconscious awareness that here was a man comfortable in his own skin made him relax slightly from the wary guard he had when meeting someone for the first time. There were plenty of users, plenty of sycophants in his world; much more rare were those not looking for what a royal’s acquaintance would gain them in return.

Jack half-smiled and added, dryly, “Not to mention the Queen’s luncheon.”

“Yes, those too,” Joseph grinned. “So..Jack,” Jack noticed the heartbeat hesitation as Joseph spoke again, as if experimenting with how the short syllable felt against his tongue. “Do you like being a soldier?” Joseph asked of the prince, his curious eyes flickering as if remembering the figure Jack had made earlier when wearing his impressive dress uniform.

Jack shrugged. “It’s who I am.”

“What,” Joseph corrected softly, eyes on Jack. “It’s _what_ you are, not who you are.”

And, to Jack, it was as if Joseph spoke to make a philosophical point and not a grammatical correction. It unsettled Jack, as if Joseph could discern, somehow, what lay beneath the facades of military uniform or party prince or future heir and into the core of Jack. It made him feel exposed in a way that rarely happened. It made him push back. His eyes went slightly cold as if to combat the feelings of heat slowly beginning to burn in other parts of his body.

“What about you? Did you like your tour of duty?” Jack asked of Joseph’s own military service, correctly guessing that Joseph was of an age to have served at least for the mandatory years.

Joseph’s grin was wry. “Not much. I think my sergeant was just as glad to see the back of me as I was to see the last of him.”

“I’d have shaped you up,” Jack said softly and, though he thought he’d guarded against it, nonetheless something compelling gleamed in his eyes as he looked at Joseph.

Joseph’s smile faded and for the first time he looked away from the Prince, although he answered calmly enough. “Luckily I was assigned as a transport driver while I was serving so I never saw the front.” His eyes were curious when coming back to Jack. “There has been shelling at Port Prosperity, hasn’t there?”

“Not anymore. Don’t you read the papers? We sank half their fleet in the harbor.” There was hard satisfaction in Jack’s face as he thought of the substantial part of the Gath armada lying at the bottom of the sea.

“Time for another parade?”

“What, are you one of those fucking peacemakers?” Jack demanded, almost aggressively. There was something irresistible in sparring with this Joseph who watched him with a calm, sultry gaze in an otherwise disarmingly boyish face, all good looks and untouched air.

It made Jack want to do violent things. To him. With him.

“Yes, that sounds about right,” Joseph nodded, not looking at all quelled by the hardness of Jack’s gaze. It almost...baffled...Jack that Joseph withstood a look that had in the past subdued Generals with ease.

“My father’s had men arrested for for saying less than that,” Jack pushed back, even harder.

“But then, he’s a tyrant.”

For a moment Jack stared, silent, torn between two almost violent emotions until one of them won and he began laughing; laughing harder than in a long while, laughing so that those around them turned their heads and stared and wondered what the soft-voiced Joseph could have possibly said to the jaded, blasé Prince to evoke such uninhibited hilarity. As for Joseph, he simply stood and smirked and sipped his drink, keeping his glances at Jack almost shyly, or was it slyly, satisfied.

“Oh, God, he is that,” Jack said, sounding breathless even to his own ears when he could speak again. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright as they rested on Joseph. He plucked Joseph’s drink out of his hand and finished it in two quick, much-needed gulps.

“Now, it’s not fair for the two of you to keep the joke to yourselves,” Alexa said, interrupting. She wound her arm through Jack’s and clung to his side. “What has Joseph been saying that’s so amusing?”

Jack didn’t spare her a glance. His eyes were trapped and held with Joseph’s, seeing things, basic and unspoken. “Sorry, private joke,” Jack dismissed the actress’s question without a second thought.

“All right then, keep your secrets,” Alexa pouted. “But come and get a new drink, Jack.” She tugged him away and Jack went after a final glance; mostly to give himself a chance to think about why this subversively charming playwright had invaded his life not once but twice in one day.

So Jack went off to drink and smoke; to decline an offer from his usual coterie of moneyed and bored young men to head off for some darker, dirtier fun; to catch glances of Joseph standing and drinking with his theater crowd; to notice Joseph looking back at him far too often for friendly interest alone. At first, Joseph would glanced quickly away from those random eye encounters but as it happened again and again their gazes began to lock and linger directly. Strangely, perhaps, the looks were far from sultry eye-fucks or flirty side-long lash flutters and more like honest acknowledgements of the fact that, in spite of all the party-goers milling about, there really was only the two of them in the room.

~*~*~

Hours later, Jack was remarkably clear-headed for having spent most of his evening at one of Alexa’s parties. But then, he’d formed a purpose early on, one that called for planning and he was nothing if not well-trained enough to execute a plan of action to perfection. It needed only the last piece to fall into place, an unknown in the game, but he’d played long enough to have a good idea about where this piece would fall. He lingered, smoking in a shadow cast by a set of tall bricked steps leading up to a turn-of-the century converted brownstone in a recently restored part of Shiloh. A call made earlier to the discreet security firm he used ensured that the security cameras within the building and across the block were conveniently disabled for the rest of the night. And his limo driver had dropped him off sufficiently ahead of his quarry’s more mundane and sluggish transportation to ensure all was in place.

Jack watched as Joseph emerged from the back of a taxi, leaning down to hand the driver his fare through the cab’s window. That accomplished, he turned and took a step forward only to be brought up short when Jack stepped forward out of his shadow and planted himself firmly in front of the steps. The Prince’s collar was upturned against a slight spring chill, while Joseph had wrapped some raw, slubbed-silk scarf around his collar. The scarf could have looked like an affectation but managed instead to frame his smooth face quite artistically. For a moment the two men stared without speaking.

“Let’s have a drink.” It was the Prince who broke the silence, eyes dark and intense. They wandered away from Joseph’s eyes, down his body and back again, a suggestive flicker only partially obscured by the night shadows..

“Okay,” came the agreement, the word soft and showing both wary surprise and caution, or so it sounded to Jack’s ears. “There is a pub just around--”

“Your place is fine,” Jack’s own soft but raspier voice dismissed the suggestion before it could be finished. He raised his hand, holding up a bottle of very old, very expensive brandy, a brow quirking up as if expectantly waiting for Joseph’s acquiescence. He had no doubt he would get his own way.

And of course he did. A nod, only, sufficient to have Jack step aside so Joseph could lightly mount the steps and unlock the outer door, pushing into a tiny, dim hall. The rather grand staircase attested to the townhouse’s elegant past and Joseph headed towards them. “I’m on the third floor,” he said into the silence, preceding Jack upwards to his door, unlocking it to let Jack follow him into the apartment.

“Read much?” was Jack’s comment a moment after Joseph turned on a lamp and then another, revealing the main room lined on two walls with floor to ceiling bookcases.

That brought a laugh from Joseph, making him look younger. God, younger than Jack thought that he, himself, had ever been. “Now and then,” Joseph concurred. He stripped off the scarf before going to find two glasses. Jack shrugged out of his coat and wandered to the nearest shelf, running his finger along first one row of titles, then the next.

“Very eclectic,” he said of the titles when Joseph returned from the tiny kitchen at the back of the apartment. He was holding two glasses. Turning away, almost deliberately, Jack walked over to the leather couch, sitting down and breaking the seal on the brandy. He turned his head and looked at Joseph when he didn’t immediately follow. “Well? Bring the glasses,” he prompted as if expecting Joseph to discern and move with greater alacrity to his expectations.

After another moment as if contemplating either the price or the reward of compliance, Joseph brought the glasses, setting them down on the table before settling next to Jack on the couch, accepting the glass of brandy when Jack handed it to him and taking a first sip, savoring,

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jack asked Joseph after splashing brandy into the glasses. The look on Joseph’s face made him curious to know what was going on behind blue eyes shadowed by a sweep of pale brown lashes.

Settling against the back of the couch, Joseph half turned to face the Prince, one knee crooked up slightly on the soft cushions. He shrugged, watching as Jack watched him. “Because I don’t know why you’re here. Why...this.” He gave the glass a tilt, the amber liquid gleaming within the cut crystal.

“Yeah. You do,” Jack answered in a voice warmed by the mellow fire of the brandy hitting the back of his throat. His eyes were direct but not necessarily completely honest.

It was Joseph who looked away first. Even in the dim light coming from the lamp behind him Jack could see color stain Joseph’s cheeks and felt a deep hum of satisfaction at being able to shake the man into a physical acknowledgement of what was happening between them. He glanced down Joseph’s body but the lighting was too dim to illuminate other, more telltale and direct reactions. “But that would be crazy,” Joseph muttered, mostly into his glass. “And I’d be stupid to--”

Jack didn’t need to hear the rest of Joseph’s words. It wasn’t as if Jack couldn’t think of plenty of reasons why this was stupid, thank you very much. What he did need was to taste, his lips silencing whatever wary protests Joseph planned on saying simply by leaning over and laying his lips over Joseph’s.

For a moment, the lips under his remained perfectly still. Then there was a softening, a giving, their lips shaped and clung and Jack sank into a heady moment of pleasure and excitement.

And then, just as quickly, the kiss was over. Joseph stood some feet away, his expression cool and distant as he stared down at Jack still seated on the couch. He’d jammed his fists into the pockets of his trousers, shoulders rigid, attesting to the fact that he wasn’t as unmoved as his otherwise impassive facial expression might convey. “Thank you for the brandy,” Joseph said, looking as remote as his boyish features would allow. He clearly expected Jack to understand the nuances of this exit cue.

But Jack was never one to fall into line with expectations unless those expectations belonged to someone with a crown bigger than his own. He splashed another measure of brandy into his glass, leaned back, and kept his eyes on Joseph Lasile. He’d had an intriguing taste and he wanted more. “Are you always so jumpy?”

“Are you always so--” Joseph seemed to be having a hard time choosing a description to fit the circumstances. Still, he took his hands out of his pockets and returned to sit, although this time he chose a chair opposite Jack’s place on the couch. He picked up his glass and took a sip of brandy, leaving the question unfinished.

“Always so what?” Jack persisted, wanting to know what Joseph had been about to say.

Joseph shrugged his shoulders instead of answering Jack’s question and asked in a pointed change of subject, “So how was your date with the Ambassador’s daughter?”

Jack’s brows rose. _So Joseph had eavesdropped that afternoon, had he?_ For some absurd reason that pleased him. “It was hardly a date,” Joseph answered. “I just made sure she didn’t get lost on her way from the reception hall to the dining room,” he explained his duty, dryly enough that Joseph almost smiled. “Ever been to a state dinner?” Jack asked, although sure the answer would be no even before Joseph shook his head. “They’re as boring as watching paint dry. Excellent wine, bland food, meaningless conversation. Not worth talking about,” he dismissed. It didn’t yet occur to Jack that he was falling into actual conversation with the man he’d intended to use and discard and never think of again.

“It sounds like Alexa’s party,” Joseph observed and Jack gave a huff of amusement.

“She’d kill you if she heard you say that. Don’t you know only the privileged few make it to one of her parties?”

Joseph shrugged. “Parties aren’t my thing.”

“So what is your thing?” Jack asked more softly and intently, his eyes flickering over the face and body of the man opposite. The blunt approach hadn’t worked, but that didn’t mean Jack had given up on his objectives quite yet. Patience wasn’t his strong suit but he could exercise it when it appeared as the only means to the end he wanted.

“I suppose I’m more used to being on my own. Until this play I wasn’t exactly on anyone’s popularity list.”

“Lists like that are overrated, believe me,” Jack told Joseph cynically.

“You only say that because you are at the top of them all. The ‘Party Prince’,” Joseph reminded with a smile to soften any disdain Jack might choose to read into the comment.

What Jack felt was a mix of outrage and amusement. Only rarely did anyone stand up to him - and he was never needled - but in his own way Joseph was doing both. “Don’t believe everything you read in the tabloids,” Jack warned, letting amusement win out over anger.

“Obviously,” Joseph said, fighting against widening his grin.

And Jack was sure he knew what Joseph was thinking: that the hard-partying, girl-loving prince was not quite as he appeared to be, not when Joseph’s mouth still looked red and kissed. Jack, too, fought amusement, but as if on cue they both gave in, grinning at each other, wicked and boyish and smug and sly.

“Come over here and let me kiss you again,” Jack prompted, gruff and commanding, won over by that smile.

But Joseph shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, for either of us.” He paused. “Jack.” He tacked on the name, as if trying out the sound of it, much like he’d done earlier at the party.

“Fuck. I don’t need someone else in my life telling me what is good or bad for me.”

“All right. I don’t think it’s a good idea for _me_ , then,” Joseph amended, staying right where he was.

“To hell with good ideas. You liked it. I know you did,” Jack said sitting forward, his mouth thinning with impatience. It wasn’t very often that what he reached for didn’t fall into his hands. And yet there Joseph sat, out of reach.

“You’re the one with the father who makes people disappear, remember,” Joseph said. “And I’m not into risking that just to be a prince’s offhand plaything.”

“You’re not pretty enough for that kind of role,” Jack sniped, not liking feeling thwarted, especially by someone who wasn’t even outwardly exceptional enough to be worth the trouble. There had been a dozen hotter, easier guys at Alexa’s party, any one of whom would have fallen into Jack’s plans with eager murmurs.

Which brought up the question of why, then, Jack was here.

But that was a question Jack didn’t really need to ask. Joseph’s nice, non-exceptional, good-boy-next-door looks weren’t the reason, but the intelligence and awareness in his blue eyes, in the way he used those eyes to meet Jack’s with more directness than Jack was accustomed finding...these had an appeal beyond anything as facile as beauty.

“If you kiss me again I’ll leave,” Jack said, resorting to bargaining when Joseph seemed unwilling to rise to Jack’s demands.

“So you _don’t_ want me to kiss you?” Joseph asked, brows raising, a slight flush of color passing across his pale cheeks, knowing he was admitting he wanted Jack to stay.

Joseph’s question unknotted Jack’s tension, frustration falling away once he knew that what he was feeling wasn’t one-sided. He set down his glass and resealed the bottle of brandy. For the next time. Perhaps he hadn’t got what he came for, but perhaps he’d found something he needed.

“All right, then. If you kiss me again...” His voice softened, promised, “... I’ll come back,” Jack offered a new bargain, watching intently for Joseph’s response.

There was a pause as they stared at one another from across the separation of the coffee table.

“Yes. Please,” Joseph answered. He got to his feet when Jack did, following Jack to the door. It was a bit like ensuring the Ambassador’s daughter didn’t lose herself on the way into dinner, but Jack was sure that Joseph needed the closeness as much as he did. At the door they stared at one another, bodies not touching until Jack put his hand on Joseph’s throat and smoothed his thumb along his jawline.

“Tomorrow?”

Joseph nodded, leaning into the touch. “Steaks? I can set up a grill on the fire escape.”

“Make mine rare.”

“Of course,” Joseph’s grin was wry, as if he expected nothing else. And then he was the one doing the kissing, or at least it started out that way as they came together, hot and magnetic, mutually combustible. Jack forgot to breath or to think, crowding up and against Joseph, shaping their mouths and their hips, tasting brandy and Joseph like it was what he would need to survive from this moment until the next time they met.

Jack was breathing heavily when the kiss ended. “See you, Joseph Lasile,” Jack whispered, feeling sure that this parting wasn’t the end of anything.

“See you, Jack Benjamin,” Joseph slowly nodded, giving Jack the impression that he really did see Jack: not the prince, not the playboy, not the soldier. Just Jack, and was liking him for it.

Joseph had done this same thing at Alexa’s party, Jack realized, but this time, instead of annoyance, Jack thought of how good it felt. No, he revised, It felt better than good. It felt like a beginning.


End file.
